Siblings
by say mona
Summary: If anyone else was King, would he hate them as much as he hates his own flesh and blood? [ read and review. ]


**Siblings**

If anyone else were King, perhaps he would still loathe them as much as he hates his own brother. If, say – for example – Sarabi was the true ruler of Pride Rock, he might despise her as much as the sight of his brother sets his blood to boiling point, but then again, he reminds himself that these are only 'what ifs,' even if it does illustrate the principle of his misery. Yet, still, he does wonder—if anyone else was King, would he hate them as much as he hates his own flesh and blood?

It's something that he thinks about when his mind isn't going on about other things. When he wakes up and looks out from his cave under the platform that should be his, he watches the lands (that should also be his) until he can stand the sight of them no more, and slinks back to where the darkness welcomes him. He enjoys the darkness; it doesn't mock him and it doesn't resent him. It doesn't make him look at things that he detests – in fact, it shields him from the reality, and perhaps he likes that more than anything else.

The squeaking of a mouse catches his attention and his eyes travel across the floor to where the small animal is sniffing the air. The sight causes a wry grin to form on his muzzle and he stalks towards it carefully, watching it freeze. He can tell that it senses something—there's something around that it doesn't like, which he recognizes from watching the other lionesses, but it can't tell what that threat is—and that it's about to continue on its merry way. He stops for a moment, a little less than eager to let it escape.

_Slam_. With a gleeful look, he lifts the creature up, letting it dangle in his paw. "Life's not fair, is it?" He lets the mouse roam over his paw, catching it again just as it's about to fall from his clutches. "You see, I—well, I shall never be King." A pause; and he breathes out lightly, as if exaggerating the fact. "And you… you shall never see the light of another day." He thinks it's fair; the title of King for the price of a life. In that respect, life has never seemed so easy and simple—but he knows that it's far from that in reality.

That's another reason why he loathes his brother so much. The proud, noble brother who got the brute strength end of the gene-pool; the brother who got the lioness that he so desired, the brother who was the apple of his father's eye. The mouse squeaks and his attention returns to it, dangling it above his tongue. Oh, how he wishes the mouse is his brother; how he yearns to hold his brother's life in his paws and have the ability to kill him with a single word, but it will never be so. He dangles the mouse closer to his mouth, closer, closer—

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?"

Snotty, arrogant; he recognizes the voice and his attention wanders from the mouse. In the process, the animal falls from his paw and he doesn't realize until the last second. He feels immense irritation and slams his paw on top of the creature, content that – once again – he has it captured and it will not escape. He sighs lightly, turning his head towards the bright blue bird that happens to be the second bane of his existence.

"What do _you_ want?" A sneer; his smirk stretches into a leering grin and he stares intently at his brother's major-domo. Oh, how he _hates_ Zazu. If he didn't spend so much time hating his brother, he would say that the blasted bird came close to being as loathed as the King himself—no, his brother is not the King, _he_ is the King. His brother is only a pawn in the way of his rightful title.

"I'm here to announce that King Mufasa is on his way." There is a pause as the bird bows and he has to stop himself from lunging at the idiot and telling him not to use the words 'King' and 'Mufasa' in the same sentence. If it were up to him, it should be 'King Scar,' and not 'King Mufasa'. If it were up to him, he would say that 'King Scar,' had more of a ring to it; more of a nicer sound, but it is not up to him, so he cannot change that—at the moment, at least. "So you'd better have a good excuse for missing the ceremony this morning."

He tries not to laugh. The ceremony—oh, _that_ ceremony; the one where his brother's heir would be revealed to the whole of the Pride Lands. Now, why would he want to go to that ceremony? It would be reminders of how he would never be King; yet another kick in the face for him. Why would he want to be reminded of that? He hears soft squeaking and lifts his paw up for a moment, noting that – with annoyance – his potential meal has run away. A quick glance to the back of his home and he sees the mouse retreating, now thoroughly annoyed at Zazu.

"Oh, now look, Zazu; you've made me lose my lunch."

He pretends to be offended, brandishing a paw in an insulted manner and feigning hurt at the statement. In reality—oh, how he hates that word as well—he is not that bothered with the mouse; besides, why bother with a snack when you have a tasty-looking bird in front of you? The major-domo looks less than bothered and takes a step away, which he notices with silent amusement. He's known for a long time that Zazu does not trust him (who does?) but this, like many other times, just makes it all the more obvious to him.

"Hah! You'll lose more than that when the King gets through with you. He's as mad as a hippo with a hernia." That voice; the snobbish air, it grates on him like something rotten. He grits his teeth again in order to stop him from lunging at the foul bird, and instead sits there in a placid manner, yet another smirk on his face. If only Zazu knew; if only he knew…

"Oooh… I quiver with _fear_."

He feels like a snake as he makes his way towards the bird, stalking across the floor in a manner that shows off his lithe build, something that he despises more than anything. Zazu is taking many steps back; he's cowering now, and inwardly, he's delighted. The bird cowers before the son of the King; it's an accomplishment, and he is silently laughing with utter glee.

"Now, Scar, don't look at me in that way—help!" The bird launches himself up into the air, but he gets there first, pouncing like a professional and catching the major-domo in his mouth. Zazu is mumbling but he can't hear it, and the feeling of having the annoying animal trapped is absolutely glorious; it's something that he wants to savour for a very, very long time. Unfortunately, that time is cut short as he hears a voice that causes more anger within him than Zazu's does.

"Scar!"

Oh, _joy_, it's his brother. He turns, mouth full with the rare delicacy that is fresh major-domo and attempts to look innocent, yet that's not something easily done when the animal in your mouth is determined to not shut up. "Mm-hmm?"

"Drop him."

Reluctantly, he stands there, trying not to seem suspicious. Mufasa the King—Mufasa the Almighty; Mufasa the best son, Mufasa the chosen one, Mufasa this, Mufasa that—the memories come rushing back and he loathes his brother even more. His time will come, he thinks to himself, content to stand there with the major-domo in his mouth. Eventually he'll let the bird go, but not now, not yet—

"Impeccable timing, Your Majesty."

He finds it disgusting that Zazu, the filthy major-domo, has spoken. Spitting him out and smirking inwardly at the sight of the advisor covered in his saliva, he whirls to face his brother again, blood boiling at the sight of him. Mufasa, his brother, the _King_. It should be him, he thinks over and over again; it should be _him_, not the bigger, stronger brother. If _he_ was King, things would be different, and Zazu would be the first thing to go.

"Why! If it isn't my big brother, descending from on high to mingle with the commoners." Sarcasm is one of his favourite ways of speaking and his brother knows that well. Still, he cannot help but throw an ironic smile into it as well; if he was King, Mufasa would be the second thing to go and Sarabi would be his. If he was King, his brother and the major-domo would be gone—blood matters not to him. He doesn't care that, if he wasn't related to his brother, he wouldn't be part of the pride; all he cares about is being King.

"Sarabi and I didn't see you at the presentation of Simba."

So _that's_ the little hairball's name, is it? _Simba_. He doesn't like the name; it's too soft, too gentle, rather like his brother. If Simba was his son, he would have called him something stronger, something more cunning like himself—Mensah or Nassor seem appropriate names that come to his as he thinks about his new nephew. There's no doubt in his head that it has a resemblance to his brother even at its birth, and he begins to hate it already, even though he hasn't met him yet, and he thinks that maybe he doesn't want to meet is new relative.

"Oh, that was _today_?" He's been counting down the days until the coronation and thinking of an excuse to miss it. It's another kick in the fact to be reminded that his brother now has an heir and that he won't ever be King, so to dismiss the thought from his mind, he ambles to the back of his cave and rakes his claws down the wall. The sound is music to his ears, but not-so to Zazu's, as he notices with a wry smile. "I feel simply _awful_." Lies, all lies, and as he inspects his sharpened claws, his smile widens somewhat. "Must have _slipped_ my mind."

"Yes, well, as slippery as your mind is, as the King's brother, you should have been first in line!"

The ball of feathers has drifted dangerously close to him and he doesn't like it. He doesn't like the tone that Zazu uses with him, or the way he's glaring at him, and to show it, he takes a snap at the bird. Glad that the major-domo seeks protection behind his brother, he snickers to himself. Zazu has a big mouth but no brain; he doesn't understand why his brother likes him so. When he is King, Zazu will be given to the hyenas as a toy, or possibly a snack. He bends down to retort to the bird; no one gets the best of him, the King's brother.

"Well, I _was_ first in line… until the little hairball came along."

Eyes meet his and he notices that they are his brother's; gentle and fair, even as his brother looks at him. "That little 'hairball' is my son, and your future King." Not-so-fair anymore, he remarks inwardly, inhaling in response and taking a few steps away from his brother. King or not, his brother will not get the best of him—no one will.

"Ohh, I shall practice my curtsy." He mock-bows and turns to walk away, meandering along with a slight swagger about him. It gives him joy to be able to turn and walk away from his brother; it gives him such power to know that his brother is too soft and kind-hearted to do anything about it, that his brother will stick up for him even when Zazu badmouths him. He has heard the bird talking to others about him—about how the King's brother doesn't meet the family standards—and he is determined that the major-domo will suffer for such slander.

"Don't turn your back on me, Scar."

He pauses for a moment. The warning is too humorous not to reply to, and he turns back, glancing over his shoulder in a manner that suggests his brother is not worth his time. "Oh, no, Mufasa. Perhaps _you_ shouldn't turn your back on _me_." A jibe; it's worth it, for the reaction that it sparks, and he can't help but mentally laugh. His brother, always so quick to anger when it comes to threats, as he notes when Mufasa lunges forwards and blocks his way out.

"Is that a challenge?"

Really, he'd never challenge his brother. He's not stupid. Smirking in response, he shrugs his shoulders and responds in a calm manner. "Temper, temper." There's a pause, just for maximum effect. "I wouldn't _dream_ of challenging you." It's true; if it was a battle of strength, he knows he would lose. A battle of wits, however…

"Pity! Why not?" The damn bird interrupts his thoughts again and he shoots Zazu a filthy look. He always interferes, that blasted major-domo, and once again, he can't see why his brother likes him so. The animal is annoying, snobby and so _superior_ to him that it grates on him, almost as much as his own brother does, but maybe not as much—he's not entirely sure about that. He loathes them equally as much, although the bird is slightly below his own brother, for obvious reasons.

"Well, as far as brains go, I got the lion's share. But, when it comes to brute strength…" He looks to his brother again, silently grinding his teeth. Really, he would prefer to have both strength and cunning, but one cannot choose. Perhaps, if he'd been given brute strength instead of brains, he'd have been chosen for King; maybe, if he'd been his brother, he would be King. "I'm afraid I'm at the shallow end of the gene pool."

As he slinks off into the Pride Lands, the sunlight hurts his eyes and he winces, recovering quickly. Sometimes he feels awful for hating his brother, but most of the time, he does not. He muses on visiting the lionesses and seeing his nephew, just to see if he can dispose of the threat quickly, but then decides against it, ambling off into the grass. Often, he wonders why his brother puts up with him—and if the King was anyone else but his own sibling, if he would hate them a lot.

Most of the time, he thinks about many things, but nothing as much as the subject of family and titles. If anyone else was King, would he hate them as much as he hates his own flesh and blood?

- - -

**Author's Notes: **I wrote this from Scar's point of view regarding the scene just after Simba's presentation. Personally, for me, it's opened my eyes about Scar and the way he thinks… so I quite like him now, but nonetheless, I'd still like your thoughts and reviews. Sorry it's so long; I never meant for it to be so lengthy.


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